The Skin I’m In

It’s bad enough that I’m the darkest, worst-dressed thing in school. I’m also the tallest, skinniest thing you ever seen. And people like John-John remind me of it every chance they get. They don’t say nothing about the fact that I’m a math whiz, and can outdo ninth graders when it comes to figuring numbers. Or that I got a good memory and never forget one single, solitary thing I read. They only see what they see, and they don’t seem to like what they see much.

Char says the dress would look perfect if I had some hips and boobs to go with it. Char blows a fat ring of stinking gray smoke in my face. I laugh, like everybody else. You got to go along with Char if you want to get along with her. You can’t be all sensitive. That’s what Char says.

At school, everybody’s staring at me. Even John-John’s doing a double-take. When I walk into class, all eyes is on me. Char’s the only one that’s got something negative to say.

“So your momma finally broke down and bought you some clothes. About time,” she says, as soon as we get to Miss Saunders’s class.

“New clothes, huh?” he says, trying to be smart.

I stop walking and turn to him and ask real smart like, “Why you always picking on me?” I ain’t sure what’s come over me. I guess thinking about Akeelma makes me wonder why people treat others like they’re nothing.

“Chill, Maleeka,” John-John says, strutting down the hall alongside me. He gets quiet, and I hear his big sneakers squeaking every time they hit the floor.

The class gets so quiet, it’s scary. “I was ten years old and brushing her teeth, feeding her oatmeal like a baby. She cried all the time. Last year, she finally came to. Got up one day, went and bought a sewing machine, and started making clothes. Ain’t never sewed nothing before. Just started, day and night, sewing.”

Some kids at the back of the room start to snicker and make smart remarks. Shut up, I’m thinking. Just shut up.

“The more she sewed them clothes, the better she got. She started picking up after herself. Got a job and all. No, ain’t nothing good come from loving somebody so much you can’t live without ‘em,” I say. “No good at all.”

The words is written out real neat and straight and strong.

Brown
Beautiful
Brilliant
My my Maleeka
is
Brown
Beautiful
Brilliant
Mine

Momma is calling me. I can’t answer. My mouth is full of Daddy’s words, and my head is remembering him again. Tall, dark, and smiling all the time. Then gone when his cab crashed into that big old bread truck. Gone away from me for good, till now.